


Reunion

by WorryinglyInnocent



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, F/F, F/M, First Meetings, High School Reunion, Mad Swan, Relationship Beginnings, Reunions, Rumbelle - Freeform, red warrior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 06:40:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14889558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorryinglyInnocent/pseuds/WorryinglyInnocent
Summary: Three friends – Belle, Ruby and Emma – attend their ten-year high school reunion, each wondering if her life has taken the course that she was expecting it to take after she graduated. Throughout the evening friendships are strengthened, and relationships are tentatively kindled. One thing is for certain – this reunion will be far from boring… Rumbelle, Red Warrior, Mad Swan.





	Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> **Content warning:** Flashback to sexual harassment and attempted assault.
> 
> This fic was started a very, very long time ago – mid-season 2. I’ve updated it to reflect the characters better, IE introducing Mulan and Zelena, for example, but there are still a few small discrepancies that date it, the main one being Neal. At the time this was originally written we’d not had the Neal-is-Bae reveal, so for the purposes of this fic, Neal and Bae are two separate people.

 

Belle turned the card over and over between her fingers, looking at but not reading the words printed thereon. They were already indelibly burned onto her brain.

_Belle French is cordially invited to the Storybrooke High School class of 2008 ten-year reunion._

She was in two minds about it. On the one hand, she was very much looking forward to seeing where everyone had gone after school, what everyone had been doing, whether or not the yearbook predictions had come true. On the other hand, when she remembered her final moments at the school, all she wanted to do was to run a hundred miles in the opposite direction. Presently the phone rang, jerking her out of her reverie. She put the card under the issue desk with her handbag and picked up the receiver.

“Storybrooke Lending Library, Belle speaking, how may I help?”

_“Have you got one too?”_

“Hello to you too, Emma.”

_“Hello. Well? Have you?”_

“I take it we’re talking about high school reunion invitations,” Belle said dryly.

 _“What else would it be?”_ Emma replied. _“I highly doubt that some anonymous benefactor’s started sending out million-dollar cheques.”_

“You never know,” Belle said. “But to answer your question, yes, I have received an invitation.”

 _“This is a major crisis,”_ Emma said bluntly. _“We need a plan of action for surviving this. We need to talk to Ruby. Granny’s, half an hour.”_

“I don’t go on lunch till one o’clock,” Belle pointed out.

 _“Granny’s at one then,”_ Emma said. _“Belle, this is a catastrophe waiting to happen and I know just who’s behind this.”_

“Emma, the last time I looked, planning a high school reunion wasn’t against the law.”

 _“Huh.”_ Emma did not sound at all convinced. _“We shall see.”_

X

By the time Belle arrived at Granny’s diner, Emma was already there, and Ruby was hovering by their usual booth, waiting to take their order and then join them on her own lunch break. Of all their graduating year, Belle, Emma and Ruby were amongst the minority in staying in Storybrooke and staying in touch. They had come together by accident in school, three loners seeking company in other misfits, but they had fast become close friends, and so they had remained.

Belle had been the archetypical bookworm, liked enough, but nowhere near popular and privately seen as a boring good girl. Ruby had been the opposite, hanging around with the gaggle of biker boys known as the ‘wolf pack’, in trouble every other week and a force to be reckoned with. Emma on the other hand was different again. Although Belle could never recall an occasion on which she had spoken about it in school, everyone knew Emma as ‘that foster kid’. She’d only started at Storybrooke High halfway through junior year when the cliques had already been established. It was clear to all that Emma wasn’t interested in trying to fit in, and so no-one had tried to accommodate her.

The three girls had first met in detention one evening. Belle had been late too many times in one week thanks to getting engrossed in a book at the breakfast table. Emma had given Sidney Glass a black eye for calling her an unloved dustbin baby and Ruby had had detention so many times that she couldn’t remember what that particular one was for. They’d been practically inseparable since then, and the notion of ‘Granny’s, half an hour’ to solve all their problems remained.

“It’s Zelena West,” Emma said, once all three were seated. “This is her doing, I swear.” She jabbed the piled of invitations on the table in front of them. “She was so tired of coming second to everyone in high school that she’s decided to get us all back together to show us how mediocre we are compared to her now. I heard she’s some corporate lawyer hotshot now. And what are we doing? A librarian, a waitress, and a small-town sheriff only got the job after her predecessor died and no-one else wanted it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a librarian, a waitress or a small-town sheriff,” Belle protested. “And who did Zelena come second to in high school anyway? She was always the queen bee as far as I can remember.”

“Mary Margaret Blanchard was crowned prom queen instead of her,” Ruby said. “Ashley Boyd was made flyer on the cheer squad instead of her.”

“Well, that’s because she was the smallest,” Belle said. “Zelena could never be the flyer, she’s too tall.”

“Belle, I know that seeing the best in everyone is normally a good trait,” Emma said, her voice exasperated, “but don’t forget that she gave you evils for a week when you graduated top in English lit.”

“She dipped Tara Punzel’s ponytail in glue after she won her scholarship to the beauty college. Tara had to cut off two feet of her hair,” Ruby said absently. “And Zelena was only valedictorian because Regina Mills mysteriously got food poisoning on graduation day.” She wrinkled her nose. “She’s determined to make our lives a misery again, I know it.”

“We won’t go then,” Belle said, trying to bring some common sense to the table. “If you’re that upset about it, I’m not going to let Zelena make you any more miserable, so we’ll have a nice night in at mine instead.”

“No!” Ruby exclaimed. “I want to go! I want to show the bitch she doesn’t own me. By not going, all we’re doing is letting her win.”

“We’ve got two weeks to make up our minds and RSVP and then another three weeks to change our minds back again,” Belle said. “Has anyone been online to see where it’s being held?”

“The Palace Hotel,” Emma said.

Belle’s heart sank.

“The same place as senior prom,” she said. Emma nodded, and Belle bit her lip. None of the women said anything, but it was plain to see that they were all thinking the same thing. Belle’s memories of the senior prom were somewhat sour.

She pulled up all her courage. Do the brave thing and bravery will follow.

“I say we go,” she said. “It’ll be nice to see everyone again; and if Zelena wants to try and make us feel bad about ourselves, well, we won’t let her. We are all perfectly respectable human beings and we have a right to be proud of what we have achieved.”

Emma thought for a moment and finally gave a slow nod.

“Ok, I’m in. But if Sidney Glass or anyone from the cheerleading clique makes a comment about me being an unwanted foster kid, I will deck them one, and you are providing me with an alibi.”

The three friends linked hands across the table.

“Agreed.”

X

It was the eve of the reunion, and Belle couldn’t sleep. She’d spent the entire day leading up to this moment painfully reliving everything that had happened during her senior year, and now, the catalogue was culminating in the prom. She didn’t want to think about it, but her mind was in freefall and there was no stopping her now.

_She’d been surprised when Gaston Chevalier had asked her to the prom. She had been perfectly happy to go on her own, take a book and find a quiet corner, chat to anyone who happened to pass. Belle wasn’t the life and soul of the party, anyone could tell that. But still, Gaston had asked her, and he was cute even if he was an arrogant jerk at times. Well, who on the football team wasn’t an arrogant jerk at times?_

_So, she’d said yes, and he’d been the perfect gentleman, picking her up from her dad’s house, giving her a corsage, getting her punch once they arrived. But now, he’d suggested they get some fresh air, away from the crush in the ballroom, and Belle was beginning to feel ever so slightly uneasy._

_“Gaston, where are we going?”_

_“Oh, I just thought it would be nice to get away from everyone. Get some time to ourselves. Get to know each other a bit better.”_

_They were in the hotel gardens, separated off from the building by wide hedges, and Gaston brought them to the stop in front of a spluttering fountain, pulling her down onto a bench next to him._

_“It’s nice here, isn’t it?” Gaston said, inching closer to her. “Just the two of us.”_

_“Lovely,” Belle replied coolly. She looked around for signs of anyone else from the prom, but all she could see was the flicker of a cigarette end outside the entrance to the hotel kitchens. She shivered involuntarily. “Can we go back now, Gaston? I’m getting cold.”_

_“I’ll warm you up, babydoll” He put his arm around her and Belle’s jaw clenched. Of all the epithets she had heard the jocks call their dates, ‘babydoll’ was the one that grated the most. She was eighteen, an adult, and she deserved to be respected as one, and she was not a doll, an ornament made to look pretty, stay silent and be dressed up and stripped off as the whim arose. But before she could ask Gaston not to call her that please, she had a name she’d appreciate him using, his mouth was pressing insistently against hers, his tongue forcing its way between her lips._

_Belle froze. She had not expected her first kiss to be quite like this. Her books had always spoken of a soft meeting of lips, something warm and delicate, seeking permission to go further rather than assuming. But then again, her books were fiction, and maybe this was fact._

_She felt Gaston’s hand on her thigh, moving higher and bunching up the skirt of her golden gown. She pulled away from him._

_“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asked, wishing her voice didn’t sound so wobbly. A quavering voice could be a sign of lust or fear and she knew that Gaston would take it the wrong way. He just raised an eyebrow and squeezed her thigh. Belle knew what he was doing, of course she knew._

_“Move your hand, please,” she said, more firmly this time._

_Gaston just snaked his hand further up her thigh. Belle gritted her teeth._

_“That’s not what I meant.” She picked up his wrist with thumb and forefinger and moved it off her thigh, standing up quickly, but Gaston grabbed a handful of skirt and pulled her back down._

_“I know you want to really,” he purred in her ear. She tried to push him away, but Belle was the little class bookworm, and Gaston was a fullback on the football team. “You wouldn’t have said yes when I asked you out if you didn’t.”_

_“I thought it might be nice to have a date for the night,” she said. “Get_ off _, Gaston!”_

_“But everyone knows what happens on prom night.”_

_“Gaston, I don’t want to, let go of me!”_

_Gaston narrowed his eyes, and his hold on her tightened._

_“You’re not a lesbian, are you? Or are you one of those who’s ‘saving herself’? Come on Belle, it’ll be fun.”_

_Belle scrabbled at him. “Get off! Get away from me!” She was almost pinned flat on the bench, and she could taste blood in her mouth where she’d bitten her lip in the struggle. There was only one thing for it. She brought her knees up and kicked him in the crotch as hard as she could._

_That had the desired effect, and she kicked him off and got off the bench._

_“Bitch!” Gaston roared. He grabbed the beaded drop shoulder of her dress to pull her back, yanking so hard that the fabric broke. “Frigid bitch!”_

_“She told you no!”_

_There was a waft of cigarette smoke and a fist made contact with the side of Gaston’s head. Belle, mute with fear, looked at her saviour. He was too old to be one of the boys from the school, and the name badge on his lapel showed that he was hotel staff. She only saw his face for a moment before he ducked to avoid Gaston returning the punch. “Go,” the man mouthed, and Belle turned on her heel and ran back towards the hotel without a second glance over her shoulder. She had to get out, go home, but she’d come in Gaston’s car. Hopefully Ruby could help her._

_“Ruby!” she called, pushing through the crowds in the ballroom. She knew she must look a sight, her dress torn, her makeup running and her hair a passable bird’s nest, but she didn’t care. “Ruby!”_

_Ruby’s red-streaked head jerked up from where it had been resting on Peter’s shoulder during the slow dance._

_“Cripes, Belle, what happened?”_

_“Gaston,” Belle choked out. Thankfully, Ruby didn’t need any further explanation._

_“Come on sweetie, let’s get you home.”_

Peter had driven them home and waited in his car whilst Ruby got Belle cleaned up and tucked up in her pyjamas. Her friend had offered to stay, but Belle had declined, wanting to be alone with her thoughts. Her dad had threatened to go out there and then and take his secateurs to Gaston’s nether regions, and Belle had almost taken him up on the offer.

Ten years later, Belle blinked back tears. A decade later and it still cut like a knife. How could she have been so stupid? Of course Gaston had just wanted to get in her knickers. She’d been so naïve, so trusting… She knew it wasn’t her fault, but it had made her guarded and wary around men for a long time afterwards.

She picked up the phone and dialled Emma’s number.

_“Belle! I was just about to ring you.”_

“Emma, what if Gaston’s there tomorrow?” she asked, at the same time as Emma continued.

_“Belle, what if Neal’s there tomorrow?”_

X

There was silence on the other end of the phone and Emma knew that they were both thinking almost exactly the same thing.

Emma’s experiences with Neal were not the same as Belle’s with Gaston, in fact, they were pretty polarised – and they hadn’t waited till prom night. Emma had been ready to lose her virginity. What Emma hadn’t been ready for was finding out she was pregnant two weeks after graduation. What Emma really hadn’t been ready for was Neal vanishing into the ether before she could tell him that she was pregnant. She’d always known that he wanted to get out of Storybrooke as soon as he could, but she hadn’t anticipated it being quite so soon.

In hindsight she wasn’t really all that surprised. She had known that she and Neal were never going to be together forever. Emma had never really held with the idea of marrying your high school sweetheart straight out of school and having a bunch of kids with them, a picture-perfect life that involved growing up far too fast and not having any chance to find out who you really are. She couldn’t really blame Neal for taking off so quickly, wanting to get away from the town he had always found so stifling. Whenever he had talked of his plans, Emma had never really featured in them, her involvement was always more nebulous. Even before he left, it had been clear to Emma that he would have been leaving, with or without her, no matter what.

She could have tracked him down if she’d had the inclination, but in the end, she knew that it wouldn’t be a good idea. Their relationship would not have survived. She liked to think that Neal would have been receptive to the idea of fatherhood, but she didn’t want to take that risk. She knew how important Neal’s future was to him, and she didn’t want to run the risk of him discovering that he was going to be a father and then still thinking that his future was more important. She would far rather that he never knew, than that he knew and was resentful and bitter about the fact.

Having been through everything that she had been through in the foster system, Emma had known that she was going to have to make a difficult choice when it came to her child. She really didn’t want to put him through what she had been through herself, but as she had no experience of anything that could be constituted as proper parenthood and family life, she had been terrified of doing something wrong.

“We’ll get through it,” she said to Belle on the other end of the phone, aware that she was caught up in her own reminiscences and not actually speaking. “We’ve got this far in our lives without them, and we’ve both come out stronger in the end. They don’t have any claim over our happiness anymore.”

She got up from her bed where she had been sitting stewing over the reunion the next day and made her way through the apartment to Henry’s room, risking a peep inside. He was ten years old now, but she still liked to check in on him when he was sleeping and see him looking so peaceful, just as much as when he had been a baby.

 _“Yeah,”_ Belle said on the other end of the phone, her words enveloped in a heavy sigh. _“Yeah. But all the same, I can’t help fearing that if I see him, I’m just going to go back ten years and I’ll be frozen to the spot. I’ve done so much healing and growing up since then, and I don’t want it all to just fade when faced with him.”_

Emma closed Henry’s door again and returned to her own room.

“We’ll be strong for each other,” she said. “We’ve got each other’s backs, and Ruby has our backs as well. I mean, Neal’s probably not even going to be there, I don’t think that anyone kept in touch with him after he left Storybrooke and I don’t think that Zelena would have gone to such great lengths to track him down.”

 _“Yeah, same for Gaston_ ,” Belle said. _“That incident did put a bit of a cloud over his college football career. But you’re right. We’ve got each other. We’ll get through this.”_ There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. _“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”_

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Belle. We’re going to kick this reunion’s ass.”

Belle laughed, and they said their goodbyes. Emma lay back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling and knowing that she wasn’t going to get to sleep any time soon.

She could never regret Henry. She had been in two minds about whether or not to give him up for adoption throughout her pregnancy, and she had almost been set upon it up until the moment of his birth. She was only eighteen, she didn’t have any college prospects and she was stuck in a low-paying waitressing job in a backwater Maine town; there was no way that she could give her child the life that he or she deserved.

But then she had held her son for the first time, and she knew deep down that she didn’t really want to let go of him. She wanted to give him his best chance, but she knew from experience just how the foster system could be, and she did not want to give him that. She might not be able to give him a fantastic life with every luxury that a child could dream of, but she knew that she could give him the love that she herself had never experienced.

She’d called him Henry after the obstetrician who’d delivered him, and they’d been inseparable ever since. Emma would never change her relationship with Henry for the world, and although there were many things in her life that she wished she could have done differently, her son was not one of them. No matter what anyone else at the reunion might say about her career path or the turn that her life had taken after she had graduated, Emma was fiercely proud of her son and she wasn’t going to let anyone take that away from her.

And if Neal was there at the reunion, and if the news of his fatherhood was broken to him then, then so be it. Emma was a proud single mother and whilst she might not have been the best at raising her child, she had done her best, and that was all anyone could ask of her. She’d put up with a lot throughout her school years, and she was not going to let anyone taint the years that had come since, the years with Henry that were, despite all the trials and tribulations that she had gone through, the best years of her life.

She just hoped that she would still have the same mindset when she actually got to the reunion the next day.

X

“God, I hate high school reunions.”

Gold looked up from the stock lists to find Cara Mallory sitting at the bar. Actually, slumped on the bar would be a better description. The Palace Hotel catering manager gave an emphatic groan and lifted her head an inch or so off the polished wood to speak.

“I need a triple vodka and tonic.”

Gold merely raised an eyebrow in response and continued ticking off stock, something that really should not have been his job. Something that had not been his job for fifteen years, ever since he had risen to the role of bar manager. Someone was going to have to explain to him how he kept hiring bartenders with such lousy timekeeping and stock-taking skills. Sometimes he was of a mind to fire the lot of them and run the entire show himself.  

Cara lifted her head a couple more inches and fixed him with a glare. “Now, Gold!”

Gold rolled his eyes, put down his pen and leaned on the bar opposite Cara.

“What’s the magic word, dearie?”

Cara gave him a withering look.

“Gold, _please_ get me a triple vodka and tonic before I expire.”

“Just for you, Cara.”

He hooked his cane over the bar and mixed Cara her drink. “Now tell me, Miss Mallory, why do you loathe high school reunions so much?”

“Because they’re just an excuse for a hundred people to come together and try to one up each other for a couple of hours. You can almost taste the sense of failure, depression and smugness. It cloys on the tongue.”

“Now now, Mal, it’s not all bad.” Jefferson came in and perched on a bar stool beside Cara, patting her shoulder. “At least you weren’t working at the Palace when the Storybrooke High class of 2008 had their first grand gathering here like some of us were, right Gold?”

Gold narrowed his eyes.

“You weren’t, you pipsqueak. You were barely out of short trousers. I, on the other hand, do not need reminding that I am, as you so delicately put it the other day, ‘getting on a bit’.”

“You must admit, Mr Gold, that you are not as young as you used to be.”

“Oh, go and event co-ordinate, Mr Events Co-ordinator,” Gold said. “You’ve got a hundred guests about to arrive to be thoroughly depressed, and there’s the woman who’s about to depress them.”

He nodded over Jefferson’s shoulder through the ballroom doors towards the main entrance of the hotel, where Zelena West had just walked in.

“Oh crumbs. I’d better get moving.”

Jefferson hopped off his bar stool and went to greet the reunion’s host. Cara just groaned and downed her drink.

“Wake up and smell the misery.” She paused and looked at Gold a little blearily. “That was way more than a triple.” Gold shrugged, and Cara continued to speak. “Must be interesting for you, seeing how they’ve all grown up.”

“Cara, I have seen so many proms and reunions in this ballroom, I lose track.”

He put down the stock lists and checked his watch. “We’ve got an hour for my errant bar staff to turn up, or they’re all fired. I’m going for a smoke. You’re welcome to join me.”

Cara declined and returned to the kitchens, and Gold left the ballroom, limping through the hotel grounds to find his favourite haunt. His hands were shaking as he lit up and took a long drag to calm his nerves. The problem was, he did remember the Storybrooke High 2008 prom.

He looked down at the cigarette between his fingers. If it hadn’t been for his vice he wouldn’t have got involved at all; it would have blended in with all the others. He looked out over the gardens towards the fountain and the benches there. He’d been in this exact same position ten years prior when he’d seen her, so beautiful and innocent in her golden gown, smiling and laughing.

She’d been with her date of course, and he’d assumed he was her boyfriend. He wouldn’t have stayed out there watching them – Gold knew only too well what happened on prom nights. He remembered his own. But something about her had made him stay, because she didn’t seem comfortable. Events had happened rather quickly after that. He remembered running as fast as his ankle could carry him, he remembered the resounding thump with which he had landed the blow against her lecherous date; he remembered the grim satisfaction with which he had thrown the boy out of the hotel.  

He hadn’t seen her again after that. Working the long hours that he did at the hotel, he didn’t really get out and about in Storybrooke all that much, and he was certain that someone as bright and lovely as she was would have got out of the town as quickly as she could. It was a dead end for most people, and she had definitely had potential.

All the same, he still couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to her after that night, and whether she was all right after her ordeal. He wondered whether he would see her again tonight, or whether she had decided not to return to the scene of what had occurred. He wondered whether he would even recognise her, all these years later. Ten years had passed in the blink of an eye, but Gold knew from his own growing son just how much people could change over the course of a decade.

He finished his cigarette and tossed the butt aside, blowing out the last lungful of calming smoke and looking at his reflection in the glass of the kitchen door. He’d changed a lot himself in the last ten years, and he hadn’t exactly been young when he had first seen her. It wasn’t good for him to be standing out here wondering about a girl so much younger than him. Whatever happened, there was a gap between them and it was something that could not be bridged or ignored.

Gold sighed. Whether she was here tonight or not, whether he recognised her or not, there was no hope that she would recognise him. Their eyes had met for all of a second before she had fled the gardens, and there was a lot on her mind. For now, he would be content just to see that she was all right and had moved on from the events of that fateful night in the garden. That was all he could hope for, and to ask for more would be folly.

He took a deep breath and went back inside the hotel, making his way back towards the ballroom ready for service to begin. A couple of the bar staff had turned up, and he wasted no time in letting them know his ire at their tardiness, but it was still clear that he was going to have to get stuck in to serving as well if they were going to keep the bar running at peak capacity and avoid long and unruly queues for drinks. Gold sighed. He really needed a new job, one that didn’t require him to do a bunch of other people’s jobs as well, and one that allowed him more time at home with Bae, but there was something in the back of his mind that had always kept him here.

He knew what it was, and he didn’t want to admit to it.

Guests started arriving in dribs and drabs, with Zelena greeting them all cordially, but with barely disguised glee as she caught up with their lives for the past decade and realised that she was doing far better than all the rest of them were. Gold just watched her antics with a practised eye; he had seen it happen all before and he could quite understand Cara’s sentiment of hating high school reunions. With someone people, bitchiness wasn’t something that was outgrown, it was simply something that was tamped down and kept simmering in the background until it was given the chance to rage into life once more.

Zelena was definitely one of those people, and Gold was quite glad that he was not among the reunion guests tonight. He had to give a little laugh as he thought of the poor sods that she was talking to; he had every sympathy for them but at the same time, it was morbidly entertaining to watch, and at least it made for very good bar trade, with everyone needing some kind of alcoholic refreshment to get them through an evening of veiled insults and white lies regarding how perfect their lives were now. For all the downsides to his job, he really couldn’t fault the opportunities for people-watching.

He was very thankful that he’d never been to his own school reunion.

Gold didn’t see her the moment that she walked in. It wasn’t an instant recognition by any manner or means. He’d registered that she was there, just as he registered whenever someone walked into the ballroom. He could see it filling up, and he was interested to see the new faces. She’d come in with a couple of friends, and he had thought nothing of it. Blue eyes, chestnut brown hair curling around her face. There hadn’t been anything familiar about her at first sight. It was only when she came over the bar that something in the back of Gold’s mind began setting off fireworks and alarm bells, telling him that this was someone whom he really should remember.

“I’ll have a glass of Pinot Blush, please,” she said, and it was the accent that did it. And accent you wouldn’t soon forget. For a moment, Gold was back ten years in the gardens, and he could definitely see the young woman whom she had been in her features now. She glanced over her shoulder to see Zelena approaching her, and she wrinkled her nose as she turned back to the bar. “Better make that a large one.”

Gold couldn’t help a laugh as he gave her the wine, and she looked at him for a moment, her brow furrowing. Could it be that she recognised him from a decade ago as well?

The moment was gone, and she left the bar, visibly steeling herself to go and speak to Zelena, and Gold continued to watch her for a few seconds until one of her friends came over to order a drink. She seemed to be happy and flourishing, and that was all he needed to know.

X

Ruby had been prepared for quite a lot of things to happen at this high school reunion, but she was beginning to think that the reunions shown on TV and in films were highly fictionalised and not at all indicative of reality. She had been prepared for thrown drinks and food fights, for real fights and hair-pulling. She had been prepared for terrific revelations that would send the entire room reeling into silence. She had been prepared for everyone in the class’s dirty laundry being aired, including her own. She had been prepared for pretty much every cliched scenario that could have happened at this reunion, but she was absolutely not prepared for sheer _boredom_.

It was clear that everyone was on their best behaviour, and that there were no chances of any catfights on the horizon despite the utter loathing with which everyone was looking at everyone else. Neither Neal nor Gaston were at the reunion; either they hadn’t come, or they hadn’t been invited. There was no need for her to stay on her guard to possibly sweep in and rescue either of her friends from uncomfortable situations, and so Ruby had found herself at a loss.

The problem was that despite being a naturally outgoing and sociable person who enjoyed talking to everyone who crossed her path in the diner, Ruby didn’t actually want to talk to anyone at that moment. She was very aware that of all the people here in the ballroom, she had probably made the least progress in her life, and despite her usual attitude, and the attitude that had carried her all the way through her school years, she really didn’t want anyone to know that.

Up until she had received the invitation to the reunion, Ruby had been happy with her lot. She had always had vague ambitions of travelling the world and seeing new things, they’d all had those, but she’d accepted that it wasn’t going to be possible. With Granny as her only remaining family, she knew that she had to stay close to help her out. The diner wouldn’t run itself, and Granny wasn’t going to get any younger. Just as Belle had stayed in Storybrooke to help out her father, and Emma had stayed in Storybrooke because of Henry, Ruby had stayed because of her family, and she could never bring herself to regret that. Granny had supported her through some difficult times, and Ruby had caused more than enough trouble to make her grandmother’s hair prematurely grey. After she’d graduated it was time to give back, and Ruby was happy with how she was giving back and what she was doing with her grandmother. There would be time for adventures in the great wide somewhere later.

It was just that sitting here at the bar looking at all these wildly successful people that she’d gone to school with, Ruby couldn’t help feeling distinctly inferior, and at the same time bitter that they’d had all the opportunities that simply hadn’t been open to her. She didn’t have the money for college, she didn’t have the money to move out of Storybrooke and start fresh somewhere, and a small fiery part of her was angry that everyone else seemed to have had it so much better in their lives.

She ordered another rum and coke, staring at it glumly so as to avoid having to look at everyone else in the ballroom.

“Hey.”

Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like the ballroom was going to leave her alone. She turned minutely to see Mulan taking a seat at the bar beside her. Despite the years, she looked almost no different to how she had looked in high school, and that fact made Ruby smile.

“It took a long time to track you down, you know,” Mulan said. “I was certain that I’d said hello to everyone except you, and I was certain that I’d seen you come in with Belle and Emma, but I was beginning to think that maybe I’d imagined you.”

Ruby laughed and shook her head. “No, I’ve just been hiding.”

“Yeah, can’t say that I blame you.” Mulan took a sip of her own drink. “Why did we come here again?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Ruby said. “Because we felt that we had something to prove? Or because we thought we had nothing to prove? I don’t know. Maybe I’ve had too much rum on too few canapes.”

“I think it’s morbid fascination in part,” Mulan mused. “We really want to see if anything weird and wonderful has happened to our former classmates. Maybe someone’s become a world-renowned scuba diver or something like that.”

Ruby snorted. “Are you a world-renowned scuba diver?”

“No, I’m a gym teacher. But I’ve always wanted to try scuba diving. What about you? Any hidden talents that have emerged since we last saw each other?”

Ruby shook her head. “No. Still just waitressing at Granny’s, so I think I probably win the award for least successful person here.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Mulan shrugged. “There are different measures of success. If you’re happy, then that’s what matters. Don’t think yourself as any lesser than anyone else. What you do is valuable, no matter what anyone else might say.”

Ruby scoffed.

“No, I mean it.” Ruby looked over at her, but Mulan was completely in earnest, and she had to wonder at the vehement defence.

They had always been on each other’s periphery during high school; Mulan was an aloof loner in much the same way as Emma had been, with just a small group of friends around her. She was an odd one out because she was athletic, and sports had always been the domain of the boys, meaning most of the girls shunned her. Whilst Mulan could definitely be described as tomboyish, she was never ‘one of the boys’. She’d never lost her femininity despite the cattier girls being determined to take it from her.

Although Mulan had never been in with Ruby’s more trouble-making crowd, they’d definitely been on each other’s radars until graduation had happened and people started drifting away. Now, it seemed that they were back on each other’s radars again. Mulan had certainly not forgotten her, and the thought made Ruby smile.

The desire to talk to people had returned, and she shuffled her bar stool a little closer to Mulan’s.

“So, what have you been up to since high school then?”

X

Emma could tell that something was troubling Belle. She kept glancing over at the man behind the bar who had served them when they had first come into the reunion. He wasn’t serving now, he appeared to be berating the other two bartenders for reasons still unknown. He was obviously their boss, and she wondered how come he had become seconded into helping serve. Probably for the same reason he was now having serious words with them.

Belle was still staring intently at him as Emma approached her, and she only shook herself and looked away when she heard Emma’s voice.

“Are you all right? You seem kind of spaced out.”

“Yeah, just got a weird sense of déjà vu, that’s all.”

Emma laughed. “Well, we’re in a room with a bunch of people who we were at school with and we’re all doing our best to hide the fact that we still hate each other with a passion; I would say that was a memory of any normal day from your teenage years.”

Belle shook her head, the quip falling completely flat.

“No, it’s not that. It’s that guy behind the bar. I feel like I ought to know him from somewhere. He looks really familiar. It’s like there’s a hole that he fits perfectly in my memory, but I don’t know where it’s from.”

Emma looked over at the man again; there was nothing about him that was touching any chords in her own memory.

“Well, if he works here at the hotel then he’s probably local to Storybrooke,” she said. “Maybe you’ve just been standing behind him in line at the drugstore or something, or you see him on your morning running route.”

“Yeah.” Belle didn’t seem particularly convinced by that explanation, but Emma didn’t have another one to offer her. She pulled out of her little daydream and sighed again. “I’m going over to say hi to Regina, I think she’s the only person whom I haven’t said hello to and even though we never saw eye to eye, you can bet that if I miss someone out then it’ll be all over social media once everything’s over.”

“Belle, we’re hardly linked to any of the old school crowd on social media. That’s why it’s been so alien coming here and seeing people again. The only friends from school I have on Facebook are Mary Margaret and Aurora and that’s because they’re just too nice not to be friends with. Unfriending them would be like kicking a puppy.”

“I know that, but I still feel like I ought to make an effort. I’ll see you in a bit, provided Zelena doesn’t collar me again to tell me all about her world travels.”

Emma wrinkled her nose. “That’s in very poor taste.”

“I know. I told her that I never went travelling because I needed to look after my dad after my mum died, but I honestly think it went in one ear and out of the other.”

“No, no, I think she understood perfectly, she’s just that kind of a person.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I think I do always see the good in people too much.”

Belle left her then, and Emma was left looking down at her empty glass. She’d got through that whiskey remarkably quickly and she wondered if her going up again to get another one would be noticed.

“Emma Swan.”

Emma would recognise that voice anywhere. Although Zelena West was the orchestrator of this entire event, Ashley Boyd - well, Ashley Herman now - was definitely the other person whom Emma had not been looking forward to meeting here.

On the face of it, she and Ashley should have got on very well. They’d both been pregnant straight out of high school, after all, and one would have thought that young mothers would have stuck together in the face of the trials and tribulations that were coming their way. Unfortunately, things had not worked out in quite the same way. Whilst Neal had disappeared, Sean had stuck around - forcibly, some might say. And whilst Emma had stayed in Storybrooke, a windfall from Mr Herman Senior had allowed Ashley to get out of the town and not look back - and when she did look back, it was with that sweet and insincere smile that said _look how lucky I am, my children have a father and we live in a beautiful house off millions made in the canned fish industry, what do you do, Emma?_

“Hello Ashley.”

“I’m sure you remember Sean, of course.”

“Of course. How are you, Sean?”

“Can’t complain. Business is doing well.”

“So how have you been keeping, Emma?  How’s your son? He’d be in the same year as our Alexandra, wouldn’t he? Of course, Alexandra goes to the private school at Newport. Having a proper education is really so important, don’t you think?”

Emma looked around the group of old classmates in the ballroom. “Well, I don’t think public school did us any harm.”

Ashley’s eyes narrowed. “Well, of course, growing up in a stable family environment is just as crucial, although I suppose you and your son wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

It was in that moment that Emma realised that she had two choices, and that her brain had made the choice without any input from herself. She could either lose her temper and drag Ashley out of the building by the hair, or she could be calm and composed and collected.

For some reason unknown to Emma, her brain decided to take the third option, and she found herself sprouting a lie of enormous proportions that she had never even given thought to before, let alone had time to work on and make consistent.

“Well, since I got married I like to think that I managed to provide a very stable environment for Henry.”

Ashley’s eyebrows raised to her hairline, and Emma began to flounder. Where the hell had that come from? Hadn’t she, Belle and Ruby all determined that they weren’t going to lie, and they were going to be proud of what their lives had accomplished in the years since high school?

Yes, her brain told her, but at the same time, she just really wanted to wipe that smirk off Ashley’s face without the threat of physical violence.

Still, she was stuck in the lie now, and there was no choice but to run with it.

X

If Gold was alarmed when Jefferson grabbed him by the sleeve and steered him roughly into the stock room, he didn’t show it, and merely raised one eyebrow, brushing down his jacket when the younger man finally released him.

“Gold, I need to borrow your clothes,” Jefferson said.

“All of them?” Gold asked drily.

“No, no, just some of them,” Jefferson said, pulling off his suit jacket. “And your cane. Quick, give me your waistcoat and your tie.”

“Jefferson, is there a reason for your sudden desire to inhabit my wardrobe?” Gold asked, beginning to unbutton his waistcoat.

“I need to look like an eccentric billionaire and to do that I need cane. Because right now I look like a harassed event co-ordinator…”

“You _are_ a harassed event co-ordinator,” Gold pointed out.

“I know, but eccentric billionaires don’t look like harassed event co-ordinators – they wear ties and they don’t have asparagus stains on their shirts from where a waitress walked into them with some canapés so please Gold, I need your waistcoat to hide the damage. Please, it’s an emergency!”

“An emergency,” Gold repeated, removing his jacket and waistcoat and handing the latter to Jefferson, his tie following shortly after. “What sort of emergency could possibly require you to dress up as an eccentric billionaire? In my best suit, no less.”

“Jeff? Gold?”

Jefferson looked up from tying Gold’s tie round his neck to see Cara Mallory standing in the doorway to the stock cupboard, no doubt on her way back to the kitchens to supervise the restocking of the buffet.

“I’m not even going to ask what you two are doing,” she said, looking them up and down.

“Impromptu striptease,” Gold said. He made to undo his belt buckle. “Private show?”

Cara rolled her eyes and left the room, closing the door after her with a wry ‘whatever floats your lilo, gents…’

“I need to rescue a damsel in distress,” Jefferson said. He finished tying Gold’s tie and its owner rolled his eyes.

“That is the worst Full Windsor I’ve ever seen. Let me.” He pulled the tie loose and started again, working the fabric deftly. “I’d fire you if you turned up to work one of my bars with a tie like that. Right, go on and rescue your damsel.”

“Thank you, Gold. I owe you one!”

He grabbed the bar manager’s cane, ignoring the older man’s shout of protest at being rendered unable to walk, and legged it back to the bar.

X

Emma was getting desperate. The lie had been a spur of the moment panic, and now it was most definitely coming back to bite her in the behind.

“What precisely is it that your husband does, Emma?” Ashley asked pleasantly, her voice benign but her eyes revelling in every moment of Emma’s now hopelessly obvious discomfort.

“Oh, you know, this and that… He’s very entrepreneurial, dabbles in all sorts of new ideas that need investments…”

“Really,” Ashley said. “How fascinating. Is he not here tonight?”

“I didn’t think that spouses were invited,” Emma said. “Unless they were also in the class, of course,” she added, looking at Sean, who didn’t seem to be taking in any of their barbed comments towards each other at all.

“Darling!”

Emma was startled by the arrival of a complete stranger by her side, linking his arm through hers and pressing a glass into her hand. She was half-tempted to upend the gin and tonic over him and unleash her taser.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, poppet, something came up at the office. There was a problem with a shipment from Sicily, pistachio nuts all over the eastern seaboard, utter nightmare… _Look at the coaster_ …” he hissed under his breath to her on the pretext of kissing her cheek without actually making contact.

Emma did so, raising the glass to take a sip of the clear liquid and looking through the bottom at the white paper coast stuck to the bottom of it, reading the scrawled message.

_Pleased to meet you. My name’s Jefferson.  Play along for as long as you need to._

Emma grinned, as she remembered seeing the man – minus tie, cane and neatly slicked back hair – talking to Zelena at the hotel entrance and ticking things off on a clipboard just before they entered. On closer inspection, she could see the pin pricks on his jacket lapel where his name badge should sit, and there was a staff key-card on a lanyard stuffed hastily into his inside pocket. It was the event manager, come to her aid.

“Jeff, darling,” she said, deciding that playing along was better than breaking the illusion. “I didn’t think you’d come. This is Ashley and Sean Herman. They were together in high school and they’re married now, how long is it again?”

“Ten years,” Ashley said proudly.

“My word, that must have been very quick after graduation,” Jefferson said, and Ashley’s smug smile began to falter. “Still, I must congratulate you on the longevity of your union, and on the forthcoming pitter patter of tiny feet, I see. Is it your first?”

“No,” Emma said. “Ashley was just telling me that she and Sean have two children already.”

“Really? How fascinating. Emma and I don’t have any together yet, sadly, but I am blessed with a wonderful stepson. Do you have any pictures?”

“Sure.” Sean, obviously always happy to talk about his kids, pulled out his wallet and showed Jefferson and Emma the pictures therein.

“Ah two girls. How old are they? Eight and four?”

“Ten and six,” Sean corrected, before Ashley smacked his arm.

“Sean!” she hissed. “Don’t tell him that!”

“Ten? My word, that must have happened _very_ soon after graduation. Still, absolutely charming to meet you both; Emma, shall we get some canapés? I’m absolutely famished.”

He steered her off towards the buffet table, leaving Ashley to moan at her husband, and Emma couldn’t stop herself from giggling.

“Thank you,” she said. “How did you know that I needed a prop?”

“I happened to overhear your conversation. I wasn’t eavesdropping, I swear. I’m very good at telling when people are lying, and I could tell that she was baiting you. I have to say, it was a bit obvious.”

“Yeah. I’m usually really good at spotting liars as well; maybe that’s what makes me a bad one.” Emma gave another laugh as she remembered Ashley’s priceless expression. “Thank you, anyway. But you really shouldn’t bait her for getting pregnant in high school,” she said eventually once composure had returned and Jefferson had snaffled four smoked salmon canapés. “I did the same.”

“I gathered,” Jefferson said. “And she had no right to look down on you for it when she did exactly the same thing herself.” He sighed. “It’s Sean that I feel sorry for really. If it hadn’t been for the other kids and the fact he was no doubt on the wrong end of a shotgun barrel at some point, do you think he would have stuck around?”

Emma snorted. “I don’t know. He seems happy enough, but it does make you wonder. I know I wouldn’t want to be in a relationship just for the sake of being with the father of my child. That kind of thing can affect a kid growing up.”

“And that is the difference between you and her.”

“What is?”

“You raising your child alone, not settling for getting into a relationship you didn’t want to be a part of or running off to your parents to get them to make it all better.”

“No parents to run to,” Emma muttered.

Jefferson smiled and handed her a canapé.

“Which makes you all the more remarkable, Emma Swan.”

Emma returned his smile, and as she ate the asparagus morsel in one clean bite, she felt a weight lift from her shoulders. For the first time since she had entered the reunion, she felt proud of herself, the same pride she felt when she looked at Henry and realised that she hadn’t done badly, all things considered. Despite everything, she still had every right to feel triumphant.

“So, what is it that you and your significant other really do?” Jefferson asked her.

“Storybrooke Sheriff,” Emma said. “I was deputy until four months ago, then elected unopposed when Graham died. And there is no significant other.” She paused. “Just me and Henry. The dynamic duo.”

Jefferson smiled. “That’s what my Grace and I call ourselves.”

“So, what is it that you really do, billionaire husband?” Emma asked. “I know you work for the hotel, I saw you talking to Zelena earlier.”

“Events co-ordinator,” Jefferson said. “You can blame me for this entire spectacle. You might not want to introduce me to Zelena West as your husband; I know I look slightly different to before, but I doubt it’ll fool her.”

Emma laughed. “No, it’s ok, I should be going now anyway. I need to pick up Henry; a friend’s looking after him tonight.”

“Same for Grace, I should be making a move as well. I guess you too know the pitfalls of being a single parent who often has to work evenings. Besides…” Jefferson cast a glance over his shoulder at the bar. “I borrowed half of my outfit from a colleague and he looks pretty keen to get it back. The clothes I think he could live without, but I’ve borrowed his cane as well and unlike me, his need for it is rather more than simply ornamental.”

Emma looked in the same direction and saw a tieless man in a suit that matched Jefferson’s waistcoat leaning heavily on the bar and glaring at her companion.

“Yes… He looks a little murderous right now.”

“Well, I shall return his possessions and mobilise him once more – I’m impressed he got to the bar, actually, I left him in the stock cupboard – and let you on your way. Unless you’d like me to call you a cab?”

“It’s all right, I’ll walk. I’m only going to Granny’s diner, and I don’t live far from there. And I have a taser.”

Jefferson gave her an astonished look.

“You’re joking.”

“No, I really have a taser.” Emma pulled it out of her bag and showed it to him.

“No, not that, Granny’s diner. Granny Lucas is looking after Henry?”

“Yes… Is there a problem with that?”

“She’s looking after my daughter,” Jefferson said faintly. “She’s my go-to babysitter.”

The two parents looked at each other for a moment, before bursting into fresh laughter.

“Go and give your colleague his clothes back,” Emma finally managed. “Come on, you can walk me home, eccentric billionaire husband of mine.”

She watched him make his way across the ballroom towards the bar, and she startled when a familiar voice spoke in her ear.

“What were you and Jefferson giggling about then?”

 Emma twisted round to see Ruby standing behind her, arms folded and patented ‘tell all’ expression firmly in place.

“You know him?” she spluttered.

“Of course,” Ruby said airily. “Granny and I babysit his daughter all the time. Her name’s Grace; she’s in Henry’s class at school.”

Emma shook her head in disbelief. She’d heard Henry talk about Grace, but she’d never met the girl before, much less her father. It really was a small world. Ruby was just giggling her head off, and she patted Emma’s arm.

“He’s a great guy, Em. I can vouch for him. If you want to pursue that course, I would say to go for it. What have you got to lose?”

Emma thought about it for a few moments and gave a decisive nod.

“Nothing to lose,” she agreed.

Ruby grinned. “That’s the spirit. I’m going to head out soon too; go somewhere a bit quieter where I’m not going to be mobbed by old friends who were never really friends in the first place.”

Emma looked over Ruby’s shoulder. “Will Mulan be going with you to that place where it’s a bit quieter?” she asked sagely.

“Maybe.” There was a playful smirk in Ruby’s words, and Emma had to laugh again. She was glad that Ruby had found some happiness here as well. The only person who didn’t appear to have made any new connections and turned the evening around into one that could be celebrated was Belle; considering the fears that had plagued her before the reunion, Emma felt a pang of disappointment on her friend’s behalf. Glancing around the room, she found her friend chatting animatedly to Mary Margaret Nolan-née-Blanchard and managed to catch her attention, mouthing ‘Henry’ and indicating that she’d call her tomorrow. Belle nodded and waved goodbye, and Emma went to wait for her fake husband in the lobby.

About ten minutes later, Jefferson reappeared, and they left the hotel, heading away in the direction of the diner. The conversation flowed freely and easily, talking about all the things that they had never known they had in common. Even though Storybrooke was a comparatively small town and Emma knew most of the people in it thanks to her job as sheriff, it just went to show that even small towns could still be surprising. For all she had been complaining at the lack of excitement in her life since graduating high school, Emma knew that this was exactly where she wanted to be. She had a fantastic son, she lived in a great town, and she had a good job that she was proud of doing. It didn’t matter what the rest of her classmates might be doing now. Emma was happy where she was, and she wouldn’t change it for the world.

As they walked along, she kept glancing over at Jefferson. Even in Storybrooke, there was still a wealth of possibility to be had.

X

The party was coming to a close, winding down, but Belle couldn’t help thinking that there was something missing somehow. There was something still nagging at the back of her mind, something that she needed to come to terms with before she could truly let this experience fall behind her and say that she was done with high school forever and could move on.

Gaston hadn’t been at the reunion and Belle was very glad about that, but all through the evening, she had been in this place and continually reminded of what had happened the last time that she was here. When she looked around at her fellow ex-students and looked at how far they had all come since that night, she found herself looking at herself in a different light too. So, she may not have moved far out of the town and created a new life for herself in the big city, and she might not be in a high-flying career like Zelena West or Regina Mills, but she was happy with her life. She didn’t yearn for something more. She was content with the small things. Right now, Belle could confidently say to anyone who asked her that she was living her best life.

The only thing she wanted was someone that she could share it with, and perhaps tonight was the time that she could finally make steps towards that.

She glanced over at the bar, but the man had vanished. Belle wasn’t exactly surprised; it was clear that he was the manager in charge of it all and therefore shouldn’t be doing the serving on a regular basis, but all the same, she felt a little disappointed that she wouldn’t be able to speak to him again. There was something so familiar about him. Maybe it was because she was seeing so many familiar faces among her old classmates that she was now thinking that everyone was familiar, but all the same, that hint of recognition was going to bug her for a long time after tonight. She usually had a good memory for people, so the fact that this man eluded her was annoying.

Still. Even if she did meet him and strike up a conversation and work out that he was standing in line behind her in the drugstore one time, or some other equally inane conversation, there was something that she wanted to do first.

Belle left the ballroom where the reunion was taking place and made her way out of the back of the hotel through the gardens, up towards the roses and the fountain and the bench where the events of the prom were still there at the back of her mind, and she looked down at the stone for a long time.

It was just a bench, an inanimate object, and it was not the bench that had hurt her. Looking at it now, and looking around at the garden, she could see the beauty in it. She sat down, looking around at the foliage in the twilight and taking it all in. She had felt apprehensive when she had first walked up here to this spot, but now there was a sense of release and catharsis. It was just a bench, just a garden, a beautiful garden. Gaston wasn’t here, he was gone from her life, and as she sat, Belle knew that she was not going to let him ruin whatever might happen next.

“Hello.”

Belle turned to see someone coming up the gardens towards her. It was the man from the bar, and she smiled, waving him closer when he stopped a good distance short from the bench.

“Hello again. Catching a break from all the drunken revellers in the ballroom?”

The man laughed, sitting at the other end of the bench.

“Well, they’re not exactly revelling, but several of them are well on their way to being very drunk, including the hostess.”

Belle had to laugh at that. “When we first got the invitation, a lot of us were certain that this would be an event of snarking and bitching and one-upping each other.”

“Much like being back at high school then?”

“Yes, now that I think about it. I don’t think that we were expecting Zelena to be among those of us drowning their sorrows because they haven’t been as successful as their peers.”

“You’re not drowning your sorrows though, I hope?”

Belle shook her head. “No. I’m happy with my life. I don’t have that sort of chip on my shoulder. Everyone has a different measure of success, and the problem occurs when we try to measure ourselves against other people’s. I know my own worth, I don’t need anyone else to define it for me.”

The man nodded. “That’s very astute.”

Feeling bold, Belle held out a hand. “Belle French.” She looked down at the name tag that Zelena had given her when she had first walked in. “Of course, you probably knew that already.”

The man shook her hand. “Raymond Gold. And likewise.” He pointed to the hotel staff badge on his lapel. “Most people just call me Gold, though.”

“You look familiar, but I can’t place you,” Belle said. “Have we met?”

Gold gave a tired half-smile. “In a manner.” He offered her a cigarette and Belle declined with a shake of her head. He took one out himself and was about to light it when he paused and put it back in the packet, stowing the heavy gold lighter in his inside pocket but leaving the packet on the bench between them. “My son keeps telling me to quit. No time like the present to give it another go again.” He sighed. “I should’ve put more effort into it sooner, really, but there was always something in the back of my mind keeping me from really trying.”

Belle looked at him, her head tipped on one side as she continued to try and place the face in front of her, framed with greying hair and the faint scent of tobacco. “What was that?” she asked.

“Just the whim of a foolish old man, my dear,” Gold said.

“No, I want to hear it,” Belle said.

Gold smiled.

“I’ve been working in this hotel for a long time, I’ve been smoking outside the kitchens for a long time, and I’ve been witnessing high school proms for a long time. And sometimes you see more important things outside the ballroom than you do inside it. I always wonder, if I hadn’t been sneaking a smoke that night, at that moment, I wouldn’t have seen her. She was something special, not part of the popular crowd, not the prom queen, but still something special. Her date took her outside and was trying to get some in the garden, and she fought him off like a little lion cub; brave and utterly ferocious but just not big enough. And if I hadn’t been outside, I wouldn’t have been able to lend a hand.”

And suddenly, Belle realised where she knew him from.

X

 Gold watched as recognition dawned on Belle’s face, and he wondered what her reaction would be.

“I knew I knew you from somewhere,” she said. “Thank you.”

Gold shrugged. Her response had surprised him. He hadn’t expected her to take it so calmly. What kind of a man remembers the face of a woman whose date he punched at her prom ten years earlier?

“I was only doing what any decent person would do in the circumstances.” He sighed, he was in too deep now and he might as well give her the full story. That was what she had asked for, after all. “But that’s why I never quit.”

“Because you were worried about what might have happened to me if you hadn’t been there?” Belle asked. Gold nodded.

“And… On the off-chance I might see you again,” he murmured, then looked away, embarrassed. If she hadn’t thought him a mad stalker before, then she would definitely think so now. He felt her small hand on his shoulder, a friendly, relaxed grip, and he turned back towards her. Belle was smiling.

“Well, it worked,” she said. “So maybe now is the time to quit.” She took his cigarettes. “You shouldn’t be needing these anymore.”

Gold gave a weak laugh. “It’s hard to break the habit of a lifetime, Miss French.”

Belle smiled and stood up, leaning in close to him.

“Maybe you just need to find something else to do with your mouth,” she whispered in his ear, before pressing a light kiss to his cheek. Gold felt the weight of something drop into his jacket breast pocket and Belle flashed him another brilliant grin and left him sitting on the bench, as she began walking back down the garden towards the ballroom.

Gold looked down and saw that she’d returned his cigarettes. He pulled out the packet and was about to take one out, from habit more than real desire, when he saw it, there on the side of the packet in neat, rounded hand.

She’d given him her phone number.

There was a definite spring in his step as he followed the path she had taken back down to the bar.

 


End file.
